Artnapping (2 page)

Chapter 2

That silver chain around his wrist! Was he a prisoner? Amy squirmed to get a better look. Apart from the chain, the man now sitting across the aircraft aisle looked ordinary. Who was the chunky man sitting on his other side? Was the chain a handcuff? Were they linked together or did the chain go only around the bag? Accidentally, on purpose, Amy dropped her in-flight magazine, then leaned across, to pick it up. From this angle she could see the small, silver padlock dangling from the chain. Was he a prisoner? No, he didn't seem to be attached to the next passenger. The silver chain led down to the leather briefcase between his legs. It went around both handles.

He was locked to the briefcase! Or the briefcase was locked to him! It just depended upon how you looked at it. On his watch were silver charms dangling from the band.

Amy nudged Christopher, then pointed to the chain again.

His eyes widened. Then he whispered, ‘Diplomatic courier?'

When they were younger, she thought ‘courier' meant a person carrying something bad, like a drug courier, carrying drugs. Now she knew that couriers could carry legal things too. Diplomatic couriers carried letters between government embassies. 'Courier' just meant ‘carrying' ‘D'you think Silver Chain is a legal carry-person?' whispered Amy.

‘Carrier,' corrected Christopher. ‘Or courier.'

‘Same difference.' Amy didn't like being corrected. Words were her thing.

Christopher was better with drawing and pictures.

They were sitting in Economy. Government officials might travel First Class.

A diplomatic courier carried a bag between the embassies of different countries. But this was a plain brief case. No official seals on the outside. But worth asking about. At the very worst, he could ignore her or say no.

‘Excuse me, I guess you're carrying something very important?' Amy's voice went up like a question. The Holder of the Silver Chain turned his head.

‘Yes.' His voice was deep and rich, like dark chocolate.

‘Are you called a courier?' asked Christopher.

‘Today I am.' said the man. You'd think he had to pay for each word he spoke, he used so few words.

‘What happens when you go to the toilet?' asked Christopher. ‘Does the briefcase go with you? How would you turn around in that little washroom on the plane?'

Christopher had often worried about super fat people on board. He always watched to see if they could get around the sideways doors on the plane's washroom. Once a woman did get stuck, on the Darwin-Bali flight, but Christopher was asleep. Amy told him about it later. He was disappointed he'd missed seeing her wedged in the doorway. He liked sketching people from unusual angles.

The courier looked a little surprised, but he answered,' I'll try not to drink much on the flight. Then I won't need to go.'

It was a long flight to Tokyo. William would be serving orange juice soon. Adults often had other drinks too, from the bar trolley. It must be hard not to drink.

Amy asked. ‘Do you fly a lot?'

He nodded. ‘You do too, don't you?'

Amy was pleased he knew that. Of course he couldn't miss the I.D. tags the ground staff had pinned on their tops. Name, age, destination and a contact person. Mum's was the contact name this time.

‘Yes. We're U.M.s Our parents are eco-photographers. They work all over Asia. We're flying to meet our Mum in Tokyo. What do you carry in your bag?'

Amy was a question- firing machine. Surprised at the children's interest, the man answered gruffly,

‘Contracts usually. Legal promises to do things. Bits of special paper'

‘What are they for?' asked Amy.

‘Something that's very important to a big international company. Something they can't trust to the mail. And I..er...they can't fax or scan it in case someone else sees it, by mistake.' That was a big speech for him. Amy wondered why he said ‘I' at first and then ‘they'. Using his free hand, the man took out his inflight magazine. He also reached for his head phones.

The twins knew he was giving them a hint to shut up, but Christopher was rapt in the idea of a silver chain and padlock. What if the key were lost? What if it fell down the airline toilet? What if there were only one key in the whole world? Would they have to use a hacksaw to chop the chain off? What would you do if for the rest of your life, until you were a hundred, you were chained to a briefcase? ‘Who has the key?' asked Christopher peering across at the chunky man sitting alongside the courier. He looked scruffy but the courier was well-dressed. They didn't speak to each other, so perhaps they weren't together.

‘That's a secret,' said the courier. After talking such a lot, he was returning to his short answers. Perhaps he'd run out of words, like a car runs out of petrol? But no, he revved up again when Christopher asked,' Do you know what's in there?' ‘Not exactly. I just know that it's important for the gallery and for me. And it must stay with me all the time, until I hand the briefcase to the right person at the Tokyo airport.'

Christopher wondered how the courier could hand over the briefcase if it was still locked to him. So either the courier had the key or the person he was meeting had the key. Or maybe it was with the other chunky man, sitting alongside? Although they hadn't spoken yet.

‘How will you know who the right person is?' Amy was curious. Tokyo was a very big airport. They'd been there before. There were Japanese signs everywhere.

‘You ask a lot of questions,' said The Holder of the Silver Chain.

Amy nodded. It was one of her hobbies. But she didn't need to ask his name. KEI was printed on his boarding pass which was on his knee.

‘They have to show me the right papers to identify themselves. And I have to show them my identity.'

‘You have to prove to them you are Mr Kei.'

‘Mmm.' He glanced down at his boarding pass. ‘You noticed Kei on that. Pretty quick for a kid. You can read upside down can you?'

Amy nodded. So his name was said like a ‘key'. That was funny. The courier called Kei who needed a key. Her next thought was that being a courier might be a good job for someone who liked flying for free. But it wouldn't suit Aunty Viv. She wouldn't fly if you paid her! The twins looked up at the seat belts ON sign .

The plane was ready for take-off. They could feel the engines. Amy smiled at Christopher. She loved the going-up when her tummy was left behind. It was like riding a roller coaster. A tour director was giving out packets of photos to his ‘Sunny Tours' people.

He was also trying to explain to one couple holding a giant bunch of dried wedding flowers. ‘You need a permit for dried banksia flowers, cacti or orchids.' Quickly the newly weds pulled out their piece of paper. ‘Permit. The shop gave us one. They said we could take them out of the country and into Japan.'

The director shrugged. ‘Fine.'

‘Sit down please sir,' William said. ‘We're ready for take off.'

Obediently the director sat, just as a man in an old-fashioned red cloak swept past and joined people a few seats behind the twins. He was carrying a packet in one hand and a saggy bag in the other. His beard stuck out like a mini shelf. He looked as if he'd stepped out of an old movie.

‘Look, the guards!' Christopher pointed. ‘They're heading for the front seats.'

The two security guards were the last people to come on board. The plane door was shut and the crew went through the usual safety checks. The video screen lowered from the roof and a William-look- alike told them what to do in an emergency. The twins had heard it all before.

‘Are you okay?' William checked on them before he strapped himself into his own seat. He seemed to check on everything as if he wasn't used to doing some things. Perhaps he was new?

‘No worries.' said the twins. Amy wasn't worried about flying, but she was interested in what was in the chained briefcase and whether anyone would artnap the Rembrandt. Why would someone going to modern Tokyo wear such an old fashioned cloak? Or was he just playing the fool?

During the flight, the frequent flyer twins would find out. They usually did discover what they wanted to know.

Chapter 3

‘Excuse me.' The ‘Sunny Tours' director was trying to visit his tour people in seats all over the plane. He was giving out envelopes.

Meanwhile, there was a fuss in the seats nearby.

‘No! Not right! The passenger pointed with a sparkly, gold ringed finger.

Not us!' On her lap was a big, silver envelope. Some photos spilled out.

‘Wrong photos?' Amy peered curiously across the aisle.

Just before take-off, the tour director had given out some of his envelopes. Obediently the tour group had sat still until the seatbelt sign went off. Then they started to open their silver edged photo envelopes from the airport FAST-FOTO shop. The woman nodded, very upset. Her gold ring was so sparkly and looked very new. Her partner's gold ring looked new too. Their hand luggage was hot pink. So were the bags of most of the group. Further down the aisle, there were cries as the envelopes were opened. Someone had made a mistake. A mix up!

‘A baby!' With no hair! It is not ours! We have no baby yet.'

One couple had 24 photos of the same bald baby. Obviously it was not theirs. From the row behind, a girl with greenish hair leaned across, smiling.

‘Honeymooners. And they've probably only just had the wedding in Australia. Cheaper than Tokyo. Even a cup of coffee there costs $25.'

Amy nodded. Mum had told them that too. Since the flight was going to Tokyo, that meant Green Hair must have been in Japan before. She was so tall. Her elbows and knees stuck out so much even when she was sitting. She looked a bit like a grasshopper, Christopher decided. With her see-through green top and wispy skirt, and green streaks in her blond hair,she was the right colour for a grasshopper. But why was her hair greenish? Christopher puzzled. Perhaps she swam a lot in chlorinated water?

‘Hi. I'm Tess. I'm an art student. But I prefer to develop my own photos. Or use digital shots. Don't want to get mine mixed up with someone else's, like them.''

Tess explained that she had just travelled around Europe learning from all the famous paintings in the galleries. Sometimes she tried to copy them, so she'd improve her own painting..

‘But if you're a backpacker it's hard to carry canvas to paint on. So, in Amsterdam, I used to draw in chalk on the pavement. And people would throw coins.'

‘Like a busker?' asked Amy. Tess was a great talker. You didn't even need to ask questions. ‘Mmm. It was a good way of paying my rent,' smiled Tess. ‘And getting some commissions to paint murals on shop walls. Sometimes I had to get a permit from the council.'

Christopher liked the fact that Tess could paint. He was going to be an artist, later. To fill in time now, he decided to sketch all the passengers as if they were wildlife. He sketched quickly. Tess was a grasshopper. That Japanese woman passenger could be a butterfly with her brilliant coloured clothes.

The man in the red cloak was a beetle. And the courier with the silver chain was a chameleon, a lizard who changed colour according to the surroundings. William was a dragon fly.

‘What sort of insect am I?' Amy peered over his shoulder.

‘An ant. A nuis-ANT' He laughed loudly.

Annoyed, Amy turned to look at the next unhappy couple who were opening photos of a beautiful Chinese vase. ‘Wrong ones!' they said.

Tess leaned across to look more closely. ‘That's a Ming vase. Very expensive.'

She was very, very interested.‘Could I have a closer look please?' She examined the vase photo closely. ‘One like this is rare. Usually they're found in pairs on ancestor shrines in Asia. But if one gets broken, sometimes the family sell the other one if they're really desperate for money. I wonder who this photo belongs to? They must have the original vase.' She seemed unusually excited.

The Japanese couple were not impressed by Tess's knowledge of Ming vases. They just wanted the wedding photos of themselves.

Christopher asked, ‘Where did you learn all that?'

Tess shrugged. ‘It was necessary for my job.'

‘Which job?' asked Amy. For once Tess didn't answer. She just looked very closely at the pattern on the vase in the photo. The long ceramic beads around her neck fell across the photo.

Was something hidden inside the waist-length beads, Christopher wondered.

Meanwhile, the honeymoon couples weren't happy. And their tour director was very, very upset.

Amy peered at her neighbour's photos. As far as Amy could see some photos were of a board game of some sort. Up close. Others were of people dressed in old fashioned costumes. One was an old man standing in front of a country town sign, holding a sword. Amy realised that someone had made a mistake. She looked at the real honeymoon couple sitting side by side in their just-bought jeans,AUSTRALIA T shirts and Doc Martens. No way were they the people in the photos.

Nobody could look THAT different in cloaks, big dresses and a suit of armour! In the photo, there was even a big, old sword. It looked like a photo of a dress-up party. Just then a mist started to form in the cabin. It started near the crew's serving area and started to spread, like a fog.

‘Look!' Christopher didn't need to point. Amy could feel it. The cloud hovered above the seats. Christopher coughed. ‘What is it?' Other passengers cried out as the cloud reached them.

Amy wasn't keen on the growing cloud either. Was it a real cloud? Had something gone wrong with the plane? Was there a hole somewhere? Was it letting real cloud into the aircraft? Was the plane going to crash? ‘Attention please. This is Captain Richards speaking. Due the technical difficulties we will be returning to Sydney. We will resume our flight to Tokyo as soon as possible. Fasten your seat belts please.'

Amy hoped that they didn't crash ON Sydney!